Broken Someone
by BloodyAngel
Summary: AU Heero lives the life of an assassin to send his younger brother to a good school and keep him off the streets.. Constructive Criticism Welcome!


Broken Someone

The routine began.

_            It's too easy to love someone._

            "Heero!  Guess what! Guess what!" called a high-pitched voice as a young boy of five or six darted across the bright green lawn.  Patches of mud and grass took off and crashed in his wake as he tore up the ground beneath him in his hurry to meet the dark figure at the bottom of the steep slope.  One red and blue Velcro shoe, shoelaces being too dangerous for a child so closely followed by trouble, accidentally clipped the heel of the other, and light blue eyes widened comically in a pale face as little green knives rushed to attack.  Curled in a ball, he tumbled head over heel down the hill, giggles simply bursting from his tiny chest as he bounced along.  The bundle of sunlight came to a sudden stop with a jarring thud.  

_            The body, the mind, the soul all break so effortlessly._

Windows to the soul allowed the forever old to meet the forever young when the dark blue eyes looked down into the laughing irises.  The gaze took in the muddy smears that were such a contrast to the healthy cheeks and the pure blond hair sprinkled with demolished strands of grass.  A dark brow arched, hovering over the tormented eye, caused the trembling form to erupt in the laughter the younger human had been trying to contain.  Shaking his head, thick chocolate hair waving from side to side, the sun bronzed teenager abandoned his position of leaning against the beaten up burnt red 1967 Ford and slid into the battered, old car.  Startled by his brother's sudden disappearance, the child leapt to his feet and quickly opened the door to the other side.  He placed both hands, one palm flat and the other in a fist clutching a piece of paper, on the tan seat to hoist himself into the vehicle only to withdraw them quickly with a sharp cry.

_To offer comfort…_

"It's hot!" he exclaimed, frowning at his reddened hands.  Out of nowhere, a white towel was draped over the sun-warmed leather, and a beautiful smile overrode the creases in his forehead.  "Thank you Heero!" grinned the boy as he climbed unhampered by the heat onto the seat and then used both hands to tug the door shut.  The roar of the engine was the only sound that answered his voice; however, he was used to the silent reply and continued on without thought. "I made you a picture today," he rambled on, grubby hands pointing at the grass stained paper in his hand.  "There's you, see?  You're the bigger one."  

_            Love…_

Dark cerulean eyes darted from the road to the tattered picture.  The cursory glance showed a taller lime green stick figure with round hands and feet staring out of the frame.  "Wufei didn't wanna share the crayon with me, but I took it when he wasn't usin' it."  Next to the neon markings, barely visible on the white background, stood a yellow, shorter version with a grin literally stretching from ear to ear.  "He kept lookin' 'round on the ground for it, but he couldn't find it."  Heero nodded quietly as his eyes returned the road and his ears tuned out the bubbly voice next to him.  The drive home lasted only minutes, the air conditioning's gentle breath mixing with the babbling of the child.  The glowing numbers on the dashboard faded with the engine, and the two boys climbed out of the car.  The shorter legs pumped to catch up with the longer ones, and a bright face beamed cheerfully up while the mouth never ceased its movement.  The other visage was dark and brooding, and he simply unlocked the door and walked into the whitewashed shack.  

_Happiness…_

The sorry excuse for a house held two tiny rooms.  The slightly larger of the two was a kitchen with a patched up cot in the corner and a table in the middle of the floor, and the second was little more than a closet with a window and a mattress on the floor.  Long, gangly limbs crossed the floor and halted in front of the grimy refrigerator.  Perishables, plastics, and metal utensils were pulled out of their daily habitats to perform their only purpose in life.  Heero paused for a second, and in a slight apology, stopped in his cooking for a minute and searched his pockets.  A clenched hand proved that he had found what he was looking for and a warm, sticky strawberry sucker was deposited in front of the little angel at the table.  Dark eyes watched the little blond worriedly, but the creases cleared when a joyful smile beamed back at him.  Heero managed a weak version, but quickly turned back to the stove.  Minutes ticked away as red meat sizzled and stringy vegetables boiled, but there was no clock in the room to serve as a reminder of time.  For the minds knew, even as cherry lips formed words and eyes darted between the golden figure sitting at the table and the stove, that like every day before it, time would run out and night would come.   

_To want to protect them from all of the horrors that lie writhing inside of you._

And it did.  The teenager brought the tasteless food placed carefully on ceramic dishes to the table and the two children began munching mindlessly on the sustenance their body craved, bland because they could not afford spices, because it was not burnt, because they did not care. The black quiet seeped into the house and shied away from the bright child laughing and eating at the table.  It curled around the edges, spreading through the shadows and dark corners of the room and seemed to swallow 'Heero' whole.  Soaking into his skin, the night overwhelmed the tiny smirk that somehow had found its way onto his face and his brow creased into a heavy glare.  With a sudden movement the wooden chair with its duck taped leg scraped across the floor and emitted a dusty squeak.  

_Only to fail._

"Do you have to?" asked the subdued voice from the table.  Dark blue eyes turned and looked at the bowed blond head.  Light blue eyes rose, quiet tears hovering at the corners, only to be met with heavy footsteps walking into the closet and away from him.  The tiny figure slipped off the chair and climbed onto the cot, pulling the worn sheets over his head.  He curled into a fetal ball to protect himself from the cold permeating his soul from inside and out. "I hate you," he muttered into his lumpy pillow before the bright smile graced his face once again in sleep.  That was the same answer that he got every night. After all, the routine had just begun.

_It's amazing how easy it is to kill someone.  _

From his closet the older boy paused after pulling on his gloves, as dark and slick as oil.  He shut his eyes tight from the pain of his brother's familiar statement.  A deep cold spread out from his heart, taking over his body and deadening his emotions.  Dark blue eyes shifted to raven.  Gracefully, but nearly robotic in his absence of thought, the tall boy slipped out of his overly large window and headed down the street, shoulders hunched and hands stuffed into his pockets.  In his complete black ensemble he nearly disappeared into the gloom, but tiny flashes of silver appeared with the rare staccato step.  Stormy eyes stared heavily at the moving feet, but if anyone had been able to look at them they would know that he saw nothing but the images tormenting him from within.  

_            After all, it's just another person, someone, anyone.  No name.  No reason.  _

Suddenly he halted in front of a beige colored house.  The brick walkway was lined with purple flowers.  A blue four door sat out in front of the pale garage; quaint, common, just one of many in the neighborhood.  The boy pulled out a creased piece of paper and unfolded it to reveal an address that he had already memorized just like all the others.  His face blanked and his emotions dulled further as he crumpled the paper into a ball and pulled out a lighter.  White fibers ignited with a sudden flare and were dropped before even half of the evidence had been consumed.  Over the fence, around the back, up the side using window ledges and trees, and into the room where there was no turning back.  

_They're just so fragile, so susceptible._

An obsidian figure melded with the walls, and not even the light of the moon dancing with the cut out images of the trees could betray him.  No more thoughts, no more heart.  Unseeing eyes strayed to the bed and the life it bore patiently.  The figure was just like any other, man, woman, or child.  In death it did not matter.  Silence filled and suffocated every movement.  A gleam detached itself from the shadows, and the wicked curve of a kitchen knife bore down on an unsuspecting throat.  Smooth, noiseless the silver blade cut through air, skin, blood, and tissue.  

_To see the gleam fade from stained glass windows._

Cornflower irises widened in shock, visual receptors taking in the blank face above them.  The damaged body shuddered with death and fear of the empty eyes above him.  Pale fingers fluttered meaninglessly around the knife and the gloved hands that it tainted, until the utensil was pulled from the deep niche with a low sucking sound.  The man's life spurted and bubbled out of his neck once the barrier was lifted.  Sight began to blur and the light began to dim despite his desperate attempt to see for one more moment.  Gurgling, choking, blood poured out of the mouth and throat to spill over a pristine white shirt.  

_To watch crimson mercury seep into the ground.  _

Blood spilled off the body spreading like a pool of ink across the sheets in a demented, beautiful impressionistic painting.  The sound of the blunt teeth of the jacket zipper opening mixed with the peaceful dripping, and a covered hand brought some life back to the room.  Clenched from a fist, a shimmering blue ribbon dangled and reflected the light of the moon.  One hand gently lifts the limp neck while the other drags the iridescent string beneath it.  The head falls back with a soft thud on the blood stained pillow as the two hands become busy tying a dainty bow over the gaping hole in the victim's throat.  The thin line of cloth turns from the color of the sky to ebony as death soaks into it.  In the morning the police would never discover the true color.  But he would know, and that was all that mattered.__

_Done simply for the money the job brings._

The walk home was insignificant.  The boy remained nothing more than a robot programmed to move undetected through the night.  Hoisting himself over the window ledge to his room, he noticed a brown package on the only furniture in the room.  Moving to his bed, he opened the box and dumped the contents on to the blanket.  Four tied bundles landed with a thump, followed by seven pieces of folded paper fluttering down to the comforter.  Next week's orders.  Obsidian irises became their original cerulean, and with a tremulous sigh he buried his face in his hands.  Ivory teeth bit down on his bottom lip, and his hands traveled to the back of his head to knot themselves in his hair.  None of it offered any comfort.   

_Because money is love._

Turning to the last source of hope that he had, Heero stumbled into his younger brother's 'room,' wearied by the overwhelming emotions and the long night.  Dark blue eyes widened as he rounded the corner and took in the sight.  He leaned heavily against the doorjamb and closed his eyes.  However, it did no good, the scene was forever burned into his mind.  The blond hair was matted and dirty with dried blood.  Light sky blue eyes wide open in terror.  Small mouth drooling dark, syrupy blood and spread in one long, continuous, silent scream.  At the center of his throat was a deep slash that had just nicked his jugular, providing a quick, although painful, death.  Covering the wound, a thin brown ribbon traveled all the way around the little boy's neck.

_It's so easy to kill someone._

The routine was over.  He reopened his eyes, but his gaze was black, never to contain the color of life again.  All his thoughts faded, save one.  With heavy steps he slowly crossed the room and gently lowered himself to sit on the cot.  Pulling the glove off his left hand with his teeth, the faint salty blood permeating his senses, Heero ran his fingers through the soft, pale hair.  Closing his eyes, he committed the feeling memory.  The digits traced down the white face, and gently closed the stricken baby blues.  He smiled happily down at the tiny figure, and then he opened his mouth and began to speak because for the first time he knew that his words could not taint his brother.

_All you have to do is to not think about it.___

"I love you Quatre."


End file.
